Chapter Text
The crisp sea air is especially frigid this afternoon. Well, most things are cold now to Chip, as he leans over the railing staring deep into the inky abyss known as the Black Sea. Pushing the unsettling knowledge of 'if he doesn't remember who he is then he is truly dead' off his shoulders like a Sisyphean tragedy. After only a few more seconds of wallowing, he comes up with a brilliant idea, pushing himself from the railing and going to find his co-captains.
He finds Jay first on the bridge looking through the spyglass determinedly, furrowing her brow in dissatisfaction. Chip, on the other hand, sneakily got in front of her and jumped where she was looking, in front of the spyglass, causing her to let out a shrill shout. With her free hand, she attempts to swipe at him but no dice - cursed by the dexterity of a young rougeish boy. She closes the spyglass in a quick motion and pockets it, now giving Chip her full attention to attack again, but verbally.
"Chip, what the fuck, im trying to get at least a little glimpse of where we ought to go." The air showing its shape as she spoke, it seems to actually be below the dew point on the open waters today, that's what happens with no sunshine Chip guesses. He gives a slight smirk and chuckle before responding, "I needed to talk to you, that was the only way to properly get your attention. Anyways, I have an idea for my whole 'being dead' thing... Or at least something to push back the side effects." Intrigued, Jay lifts a brow to signify she's listening, "Okay, meet in our quarters in like 5 minutes. Do you know where Gill is?"
"Not sure, probably in the kitchen or up on the crows nest." She leans on the railing looking over the rest of the ship and turns her head the slightest bit to the left, "Oh, he's right there..." Chip also looks over the railing next to her to see Gillion fencing with the air, he also notices a bright white line that looks freshly painted that Gill is trying to stay upon, only the occasional steps off. He has to get dexterity training somehow, Chip surmises. He repeats the 5 minute warning before trotting down the stairs to the main deck where Gillion is. Jay scoffs and takes the spyglass out again just to get one more good look.
Chip decides that, since Gillion is currently wielding a sharp, pointed object and is flailing it around haphazardly, he would approach the fish man from the front so he can pause his training properly. He slows his gait as he gets closer, waving to gain his attention. Gillion looks up to Chip, sheaths his sword and returns the wave.
"Good afternoon Chip, I hope you don't mind that I painted a line on the deck. I have been told by Jay that I can’t do my training on the mast anymore, and that I need 'less destructive training measures'. " He smiles, putting a bit too much emphasis on the air quotes, then continues under his breath, "whatever that means..." Chip stifled a chuckle by masking it as a cough, he rolled his shoulders back to straighten his posture, bones popping very audibly.
"Hey man, I have an idea and I need your help with it... and before you ask, it's not bad and I thought it through... somewhat. Well, I've thought about it but it needs more... outside input? Something like that... Look, I already got Jay in on it, let's go down to our room so I can fully explain." Chip says in his natural fashion of talking, going backwards after statements with the smallest twinge of uncertainty just to double down not even a second later. Gillion just watches the other man speak with the utmost attention, like always, picking out the nuances like picking out the peas in shepard's pie, or like annotating a brand new book. Somewhere down the line of adventure this became their routine, a way for Gillion to learn the art of colorful language, a new canvas for conversation. Gillion nods and they make their way to the co-captains living quarters.
Jay is already in there on her bunk, picking at her nails. Chip motions for Gillion to also take a seat next to Jay, he takes in a large breath while the other two get settled for what idea Chip has concocted, he holds this breath in thought. He looks down at them with a grave face at first, which startles the others, then Chip lets out the air, visibly deflating, to which Gill and Jay also finish their breath not knowing they were holding it.
"So...I'm dead now..." He chuckles, pausing for a laugh that would never come, and he knows that. This is a grave situation and why would he joke at a time like this. He looks over the faces of his compatriots, his friends, his family, and they are gaunt, bordering genuine distress and decrepit. He's just now noticing how much of a toll the Black Sea has taken from them as well. Chip clears his throat and continues, "and I've come to realize that each day, I'm starting to forget things that have happened. Right now, it's only the fine details, like one time names and faces, but I'm starting to get scared that i may lose more important memories." He starts to pace in front of them out of sheer nervousness, like saying these words out loud, knowing someone is listening, it finally clicks that they are fact and true, like sinking in that last puzzle piece that was lost under the couch for who knows how long. He then stops suddenly in front of them but does not face them, not yet. He takes another breath before turning.
"i need both of you to give me a day... Not now, like when we find a calm island to port - if we get that chance - and make it the best day ever. Not in a contest sort of way, that would be shitty, just... literally a day to remember. I think strong enough memories will help keep my humanity for... if or when we can get this situation fixed." He gestures, circling his chest, "Damn, that sounded way cheesier than it was supposed to, anyways i'd really liked if you guys could do that for me... Fuck it, might as well lay out all my cards on the table; you guys are the only thing I can define as a family and I don't... want to go. not yet at least..." what can be classified as tears start to prick in his eyes, but chip would never admit that, yet he lets it happen right now, because why hold back. He looks down, still, to try and hide it - force of habit.
After what feels like a century, he's almost on the floor from the sheer force of Gillions tackle hug. Chip regains his footing to support the extra weight after a second. Barely audible through Chip's shoulder, Gillion responded "Of course." Then they are both on the floor with Jay's speedy tackle hug. Like a rack of bowling pins they are sent flying with Jay's bowling ball of a hit, sprawled out on the floor, and all they could do was giggle like children, because when it came down to it they were. Gillion gets up first, lends a hand for Jay and pulls her up, then she does the same for Chip.
"Give it a day or two and we'll be at the next island, and you bet your ass we can give you the best day. Something not even Niklaus can provide..." After a second she knocks on the doorframe, "We should go grab some food, it's probably dinner time." Jay and Gillion start to leave.
"I'm gonna stay in, but if you can bring me an orange later, please. I am spent after that much emotion on display." Chip says as he climbs up to his bunk. Jay looks back, nods, and closes the door. Chip lays back on his bed, legs crossed, hands bunched together over where his heart should be, and closes his eyes. He is cold, but a warmth worms its way through him. He now has something to look forward to, and that is way better than nothing.